More Then A Wizard
by Minato Namikaze
Summary: Times change. Lives are effected. Wizards aren't the only 'magic' users. They've accepted that. But, can they accept their savior, defeater of You-Know-Who, when he wants to become, 'More than a wizard? To use power for the needs of one? Not many?
1. Chapter 1

It's a quiet night where the story begins. More specifically, at an average neighborhood, at an average house, with an average family consisting of one average husband and one average wife, with one average child, and one abnormal child sleeping in a normal cupboard an-

Wait. What?

You read right. One Harry James Potter was sleeping peacefully in the cupboard belonging to the Dursleys, with not a care in the world.

Or not.

Harry was in fact, not sleeping peacefully. His small, nine year old body, was moving back and forth on his small bed, in the midst of a nightmare. In seconds, however his body shot up, gasping for breath with sweat pouring down his face.

His nightmare, or remembrance really, was about what happened, just yesterday...

(-)(-)

Harry Potter was, for a lack of better terms, a prodigy. What others saw as logic, predictability, facts and figures, even aerodynamics, Harry Potter just saw as common sense. His only vice, was that he was lazy as hell.

Anyway...

It was apparently a normal day for Harry, as he was walking to his first class of the day. He walked in, put away his coat and shoulder bag, and sat in his assigned seat. Then sat in silence, leaning back with his feet up on the desk, till class began.

Students around him, more or less ignored him, for no reason other than the fact that, he was smarter than them.

This was how Harry Potter's days went. Get up, cook breakfast, get ready for school, go to school, get ignored at school, go home, cook dinner, go to sleep, repeat. A very boring and understandably bland life.

But this day, was different.

Unknown to the students, a man was coming to the school to examine all of the students, and if necessary, recommend them for advanced classes.

And it would just so happen that Harry's class was the first one he was to watch.

(-)(-)

No one noticed Mr. Willfy as he creeped into the class just before it was to begin. He was a man of average build, coming to about 5 feet 7 inches, wearing a brown suit, with a white button up shirt, brown slacks, and normal white socks.

He took his place in the back of the, small, 15 by 20 classroom, by one of the three windows in the class. After getting adjusted to the chair he was sitting in, he did a once over of the students. He of course didn't expect much from 4th graders, and so was hoping the class would go by quickly.

Most of the students seemed average, if not below average, (CoughDudleyCough) but there was one boy that caught his attention, being all alone.

He looked at the class roster. Harry Potter, it showed. Mr. Willfy looked back at the boy, who was sitting in the very back right corner of the room, feet propped up on the desk, chair leaning back, and a sketchbook on his lap, a pencil and eraser in his hands.

The boy was wearing, what appeared very out of shape hand-me-downs, clothes too big for him, worn out trainers, and slacks that were just barely staying, aided by the worn belt around his hips.

Shifting in his seat, Mr. Willfy looked over the students shoulder, at the sketchbook.

And was promptly left gaping.

In the lap of Harry Potter was an incredible, half finished, detailed profile of a young girl, and looking at the class found the girl in question sitting with her friends, oblivious to the art being drawn in her likeness.

This caused Mr. Willfy to pay closer attention to details of the boy then he might have before. Details, like how his hair looked to be an uncontrollable mess, how he wore round, out of style glasses, and had the creepiest green eyes he had ever seen.

Yes, he would be paying attention to Mr. Potter, indeed.

(-)(-)

The class was already almost over before the teacher seeming ended class early.

"Alright everyone, I've got some stuff to deal with so you can all go out for recess."

There was short cheer from the students as some ran out of the class, others getting there coats from the side of the room. Meanwhile, Mr. Willfy made his way to the front of class, and informed the teacher of the only student that had caught his interest. She seemed surprised.

"Potter? Are you sure? That boy never pays any attention in class, and I'm sure he bullys other kids into doing his homework; he's always getting good grades!"

"I'm sure madam."

She just sighed. "Alright then I have him take the test after recess is over."

"Thank you madam. If you could just take the test to me in the teachers lounge, at noon, that's when I'll be grading today's tests."

And so he left never noticing the attentive green eyes watching him as he left.

(-)(-)

It was almost two o' clock, 30 minutes after all classes had ended for the day, when he had finally gotten to Harry Potter's test. He had started with the highest grade level(8th) and work his way down. It had taken so long, for there were quite a few students in the 8th and 7th grades with potential, and in actuality the test was quite long. It had questions about a variety of subjects, mostly the norm. such as history, science, math, etc. There were some questions that pertained to things like modern technology,and other things like that. At the very end was an essay that any of the topics givin in a box to the side could have been written about.

He stretched and took hold of his tea that he had set down only moments ago. He held it in his hand as he fliped to the very back of Harry's test, deciding to grade the essay first(if Harry had even compleated the whole test) then grade the rest.

He was just sipping the tea when his eyes scanned the essay...

...And promptly spit it all out in a coughing fit, spurred on by the surprise of what he read in the essay.

_Probability and Coincidence: A Theory of Quantum Immortality By: Harrold J. Potter_

(-)(-)

It was in the papers the next day- today. The news was all over Europe. A prodigy child, the papers told, a child who might solve all of humanity's problems. Harry James Potter was quickly becoming as famous in the muggle world as he was in the wizarding one.

And Uncle Vernin was anything but happy for his nephew.

Hence, the broken wrist.

'Enough with the thoughts of the past.' He said to himself shifting on the small cot. The cupboard was dark, as always. Uncle Vernin didn't appriciate the electricty bill as it was, always complaining that it was Harry using his light at night, running up the bill.

So Harry took out the light.

Even though he was consistantly robed in darkness, there were some benifts. His uncle never complained at Harry any more. About the electricity bill that was. Another thing was his night vision was outstanding, able to adjust with just the blink of an eye. Though that shouldn't be scientificly possible.

Shifting again, Harry watched a rare stream of moonlight come through the slot of the door. In its wake he could see little particals of dust, floating in the air.

"I'm not going to get to sleep again am I?" He mumbled out to no one.

He sighed, knowing it was inevitable. His mind wandered to his previous thoughts of himself. There were quite a few things about himself that shouldn't be possible. Like the teacher's hair turning blue. Or the time when he dissapered from the playground, to the school roof.

That one was his favorite. After all, who wouldn't like the ability to teleport! The outcomes whould be astronomical.

Not to mention that if he could teleport, he wouldn't have to put the _extra_ energy into _actually_ walking or running.

He grinned to himself. 'I'm gonna find a way to do that at will, if its the last thing I do...'

(-)(-)

**A/N:** Alright... 'Bout time I got something out... This is another writer's block reliever... I'll get more chapters for all my stuff up soon enough.


	2. Chapter 2

A/N: Just a note, there is a twenty year timeline change in this story, it takes place in 2009, not 1989

(-)(-)

**Moving up or down is just a matter of opinion. Its moving forward or standing still that a choice must be made.**

**What will you do?**

**-MinatoNamikaze(author)**

(-)(-)

Three weeks.

It took three weeks learn how to do it.

Those were the vitorious throughts running through his head, as Harry Potter stood in front of the sink of the kitchen of Number 4. He was washing dishes, soaking them in soapy water, scrubbing them with a sponge, drying them with a towel, placing them to the side, repeat.

Dirty dishes weren't even in his thoughts though.

His body moved by rote, but his mind was still thinking of what he had done. Teleportation. Ever sence thinking it over three weeks ago, he had worked nonstop anytime he had time to, which was about only five hours a day, after all his chores. It was this day actually, that he had finally gotten the hang of it, after trial and error.

He stoped and stretched, all the plates clean. His mouth opened involentary in a yawn from so much inactivity, though he covered his mouth. Aunt Petunia always hit his jaw up if he didn't. Stretching his legs again, he walked the house in search of said aunt. She was in the TV room, watching some cooking channel(though she never cooked).

"Aunt Petunia," Harry spoke quietly, "I'm going to the library again, alright?"

The women looked over to him, her slightly gaunt face the perfect picture of apathy.

"Alright. Be back in time to cook dinner." With that she turned back to the television.

Walking down the sidewalk, toward the library, Harry let his mind wonder to his aunt for a moment. At first both his aunt and uncle had been agaist him going to the library, but with his rising popularity, being restrained inside all the time would arouse suspicion. That didn't mean he was alowed anywhere else though. They couldn't stop him from going, no, but what they could do after was another matter intirerly.

Coming back to reality, he stepped inside the library, moving around others as they left.

'I always did love the library...' he mused silently, walking through the isles, seemingly at random. He walked through the rows of books, looking at some, but never paying atention to any in preticular. It wasn't to long before his mind wondered to his lateset achivement, and he couldn't stop the grin that came to his face.

'Ha, teleportation! Its so fantastic; I can't get over it!'

Harry's thoughts were silent again for just a moment as he sat in a chair, at one of the many tables in a corner of the library. He always came here to think, the quiet, calming atmosphere always helped.

'No one else I know of can do this... If it was 'normal' than it would be common. Not to mention that the laws of phyics say it shouldn't be possible.' There was a pause as he smiled to himself, 'And that means those laws must not compleatly apply to me.' His smile widened as, after all, that one sentence held so many opprotunities, so many ideas. He didn't really have any clue where to start.

' 'A journy of a thousand miles is started with a single step.' Hmmm... Smart saying. Well... what would be first... A name!'

Harry got up again and paced the isles at random again, comtemplating.

'Teleportation seems too... average, maybe. I should give my ability an original name, but what?'

He stopped his pacing a few minutes later, as he reached the 'how to' section of the library. This was his favorite part of the library, ever sence he first found it three weeks ago. He was here whenever he was too tired(as he found out, his ability _did_ tire him out if used to much) to train. As it was, he had learned how to fix a bike, the basics of repairing cars, how to make locks(and as a result, how to pick locks), how to play guitar, and now he picked up a book on electrical moters. Though Harry had read the other books, all of the subjects he had studied, none were accessible, so he only really knew what to do in theory.

Satisfied with the book, he walked back to the back-left end of library. He was half way there when a light bulb in his head went off.

'Shift. _Shift_. Hahaha,' He actually laughed out loud this time, 'Fantastic! Its perfect! Shift, I like it.'

Content with the name, and his book, Harry Potter sat in the library, not a care in the world.

(-)(-) POV change-1st person

'Then the wires are connected through...' I lost the rest as I yawned, leaning away from the 'for dummies' book on the small wooden desk in front of me. Don't get me wrong, I'm interested in the book, its just hard to stay with a book when you've been sitiing in silence for... How long? I glanced at my watch I picked up from Dudley's room. He never noticed it was missing.

7:58

'Oh, shite!'

The Dursleys always had dinner at 8:30, and it took almost thirty minutes to walk there! I may not make it in-

Shift.

I laughed, calming down, but still decided to leave the library. I got up, threw the book into a random shelf, pushed the desk chair in, and started for the door. I was laughing at my self a bit as I left; I had almost forgotten about Shift, the name I had givin for my teleportation.

(-)(-)

The next few weeks carried on much the same way. I would always go the library after my duties at the Dursley's, staying for hours before heading home. I know for a fact that I'm getting better at Shifting, although I hadn't known you could get any better at teleporting. Actually, it would be wrong to say I got better at just Shifting. After a little experimenting, I learned to... well, shift, differently. Normally I have to spin to Shift, and there would always smoke and a cracking sound when I did it. It took a while between everything else I was doing, but not only did I learn to make massive amounts of smoke when I shifted, I learned how to make the noise so loud it was if there was thunder.

Hehe... I learned the hard way not to do that when too many people are around. Librains don't appreciate loud noises in the library.

Those weren't the only things I accomplished though. Two or three weeks in, always needing to spin to teleport got me nautious, and after messing around with my inner energy(which I also learned to draw out) I found a new type of Shift. This kind, which I call Stepping, is the same as Shifting, only in that I move from one place to another. Everything else is different. Shifting, I fiqured out(which I seem to be doing a lot of) needs a memory, or visual refrence to work. Namely, I need to know what the place looks like.

Stepping's a whole different matter though. Where as I need to spin to Shift, for Stepping, I just need to _move_. It doesn't matter how. For Stepping I don't need to really know where I'm going, as long as it possibe to go there. It feels different too. Shifting feels like... being forced through a small tube(it gets better with time). Stepping is like closing your eyes, feeling as if your skydiving, then opening your eyes in a completly new place.

Besides all that, and the many little variations I can do to them(going faster, farther etc.), I made a breakthrough on my inner energy. I fiqured out how to draw it out easily now, and so now its just a matter of _doing_ something with it.

But what, some may ask, do I plan on doing?

Just stealing a handheld PSP that costs 175 pounds.

(-)(-)

_Yawn_

Johnny McGellen couldn't stop the monstrous yawn from his mouth, even with the two cups of 'joe' (as he lovingly called them). But could you really blame him.

'Just how in the world,' he thought looking around the gaming store with two or three costomers wondering around, 'Did I get stuck with the last shift of the day.'

He gazed longingly out the window to his left, past isles of games and accessories, to the streets of uptown London, where the crowds where thinning, the people of the day leaving, and the more interseting(to him) people of the night starting to slither out into the streets.

One such person, was the hotest chick he'd ever seen in his life. He followed her with his eyes, and head, gazing without a hint of subtleness at her revealing shit, skin-tight pants that were rather low in the back...

"_Whistle_... Nice piece of arse ain't she?"

Johnny nodded, "Hell yeah." Then he jumped realizing he was still on the job.

"Sorry 'bout that." He laughed sheepishly turning to the guy in front of him. "What can I help you with?"

The man was about 19-20, standing about 5'7" or 5'8". His black hair was extreamly messy, like a bedhead stlye, but was long enough that one bang reached to his chin. The back wasn't as long as the front though, coming just about to the base of his neck. The only other thing that stuck out about his face was his striking green eyes.

"Haha, s'all right mate, I was checkin' 'er too." He turned with a nod of his head to a display in the middle of the store. "I wanna ask ya 'bout the PSP Go." He started walking away, completely expecting Johnny to follow.

Johnny, for his part, could tell with a few glances what type of costomer this was. Expensive looking baggy cargo pants held up by a belt or two, each having buckles and clasps for who knows what. An overly large orange long sleeve tee, with the most complicated artwork on a shirt he had ever seen.

He was dealing with a hardcore gamer.

A _rich_ hardcore gamer.

Johnny grinned as he followed the guy toward the display. 'Easy prey'

Thirty minutes later, after many questions and a small debate, Johnny and the gamer were standing at the counter.

"Alright... One PSP Go, one 70-gig solid state drive, one set of headphones, and one game." Johnny glanced at the game as he put it into a bag. "Oblivion? I heard it was an alright game, but I've never played it myself. Alright, comes ta' 849 pounds flat."

Here was the dangerous part, Johnny knew. Even if he was sure this man was a rich gamer, there was always the chance, he _wasn't. _If he was, well, Johnny was a lineback back in America, he wouldn't have any problems.

Apparently he wouldn't have to worry as the gamer took out a card from his wallet without a hint of worry in his eyes.

Turning slightly to the left to swipe the card and autherize it, etc etc.

One problem.

The card wasn't valid.

Faintly he could hear the bells of the door open and close, over his shocked gaze. And sure enough, when he turned to the counter, the gamer and bag was gone leaving only the tracking chips he himself had taken off...

(-)(-)

The evening air was cool upon his face as he sat upon one of the many roofs of London. A white bag containing his new property sat at his side cackiling lightly in the wind, even as he watched the sunset, enjoying the peace...

"DAMN YOU THIEF!!"

There was just a moment where he grinned, then Harry couldn't keep the laugh in, his loud devious chuckles echoing threw the air. He was still wearing the disquise of the rich gamer, and was content to stay that way for some time as well.

Time ticked by as he simply sat, and watched as the sun continued its journey down. Still the boy-who-lived watched as it fell, the sky coloring purple, then a dark navy blue, and finally an inky blackness took the place of what was a periwinkle blue mere hours ago.

It was far past the time the Dursleys wanted dinner made, he knew.

But that didn't matter to him anymore. For tonight was special, ver, very special.

'Tonight, I am free.'

And with that Harry Potter dissappeared into the night.


End file.
